Princess's Revenge: Slave to the Soulbound King Chapter 83

Draven

The heavy oak door of my study slammed shut behind Morgana, the echo reverberating through the stone walls like a death knell. I slumped back into my chair, my hands trembling as I reached for the bottle of whiskey on my desk. The amber liquid burned down my throat, a welcome distraction from the fire consuming my chest.

"Damn it all," I growled, hurling the empty bottle against the wall. Glass shards scattered across the floor like my shattered resolve. I knew Morgana's visit was no coincidence—Garrick was undoubtedly plotting something in the shadows, but none of that mattered now. A far greater torment gnawed at my soul: Thalia's true identity pierced through me like a blade.

The alcohol clouded my judgment but couldn't numb my conscience. If I revealed Thalia and Adelaide's identities to the Wolf King, I would betray the woman I had just marked as mine. But if I remained silent, I would betray my King and our people—three hundred years of unwavering loyalty, crumbling to dust.

My vision blurred as I stumbled toward the door, driven by a single, desperate need—I had to see Thalia, even if it would be the last time. The guards stationed outside my chambers moved to intercept me, clearly alarmed by their Commander's drunken state, but one fierce glare sent them retreating.

The corridors of Lycandor Keep stretched endlessly before me, each step a monumental effort. My mind churned with fragments of memory: Thalia's gentle touch healing my wounds, her soft voice reading ancient texts by candlelight, the way her eyes sparkled when she laughed. Had it all been an elaborate deception? Or had there been genuine feeling beneath the lies?

By the time I reached her door, my rage had transformed into something far more dangerous—a desperate, aching need that threatened to consume what remained of my sanity.

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Thalia

I sat by the window, moonlight painting silver streaks across my tear-stained cheeks, when the sound of heavy footsteps and muffled voices broke the oppressive silence. The door burst open without warning, and Draven swayed in the doorway, his hair disheveled, his usually pristine appearance replaced by that of a broken man drowning in drink.

"Draven!" I gasped, rushing to his side as he nearly collapsed. His powerful frame trembled against mine, and the sharp scent of whiskey mingled with his familiar pine fragrance, creating a bittersweet cocktail that made my heart ache. "How much have you had to drink?"

His grip on my wrist was almost bruising as he pulled me closer, his bloodshot eyes boring into mine with raw intensity. "Why?" His voice was a harsh rasp, torn from the depths of his soul. "Why did you lie to me? Why are you not just an ordinary human, but the daughter of our arch-enemy? I gave you everything—my trust, my love, my very soul—and you've been deceiving me from the very beginning."

Tears spilled down my cheeks as I cupped his stubbled face in my trembling hands. "I'm sorry... I'm so very sorry. But my love for you was never a lie, Draven. Not for a single moment."

He closed his eyes, a single tear escaping to trace a path down his weathered cheek. "I don't know what to do, Thalia. I am Lycanthar's most trusted man—he considers me a brother. If I don't tell him about Adelaide's true identity, I betray him and our people's three-hundred-year oath of vengeance." His eyes opened, revealing endless pain. "But if I do tell him... I betray you, I betray my heart."

I wrapped my arms around him, pressing my head against his chest to listen to his strong but fractured heartbeat. "I know, I understand it all. We both carry responsibilities we cannot easily set aside." I looked up into his tortured gaze. "But I want you to know—whatever choice you make, I will understand."

Draven stared into my eyes, those blue depths that had once enchanted him, still shimmering with love despite everything. He lowered his head, his lips brushing mine with desperate hunger. The kiss began tentatively, then exploded into ravenous need and despair.

His hands were rough as he pushed me back onto the bed, his body covering my smaller frame. He tore at my clothing with shaking fingers, clumsy in his urgency. I didn't resist—instead, I reached for his belt and shirt, helping to bare our skin so we could feel each other's warmth.

"I should hate you," Draven growled, framing my face with his large hands. "But I can't. Moon Goddess help me, I cannot."

His mouth descended like a storm upon my neck, collarbone, and breasts. His tongue flicked against my nipples, drawing trembling moans from my lips. I tangled my fingers in his dark hair, pulling him closer as if I could absorb him into my very being.

Draven's palm traced down my waist, his fingers finding the wetness between my thighs. I arched beneath his touch, releasing sweet cries of pleasure. His fingers circled my entrance, feeling the slickness of my desire.

"Draven, please..." I gasped, unconsciously spreading my legs wider in invitation.

With a low growl, he positioned his hardened length at my entrance and thrust deep in one powerful stroke. I cried out, my legs immediately wrapping around his waist. Draven began moving with desperate force, each thrust seeming to pour all his anger, pain, and love into me.

I matched his rhythm, my nails raking red lines across his powerful back. The room filled with the sounds of our joining—flesh against flesh, mingled gasps and moans. Draven's movements grew faster, harder, the bed frame protesting with creaking groans.

"Look at me," he commanded, his voice rough with passion. "Look into my eyes and tell me you love me."

My eyes met his as tears and sweat mingled on my face. "I love you, Draven. I have always loved you."

Those words seemed to shatter his final defenses. His thrusts became even more intense as he lowered his head to bite the mark on my shoulder. The action sent me screaming over the edge, my inner walls clenching tight around his hardness. Draven could hold back no longer, roaring as he spilled himself deep inside me, his hot seed filling my depths.

In the aftermath, Draven collapsed onto me, both of us breathing heavily. After a moment, he rolled to his side, pulling me into his arms as if afraid I might vanish. Under the dual influence of alcohol and passion, Draven soon fell into sleep, his furrowed brow finally smoothing.

I carefully extracted myself from his embrace, gazing down at his exhausted features. Gently, I traced the strong lines of his face, wiping away the dried tears from the corners of his eyes. Moonlight streamed through the window, illuminating our naked bodies, and I saw the scratch marks I had left on his back—evidence of both satisfaction and regret.

"I would bear any consequence if the Moon Goddess would only ease your suffering, my beloved," I whispered in prayer, tears falling once more to land on Draven's chest like a silent vow. I knew that whatever tomorrow brought, tonight's embrace might be our last moment of tenderness.

The candles had burned low, casting dancing shadows on the walls as I held vigil over the man I loved, knowing that dawn would bring choices that could destroy us both. In the distance, I could hear the night watch changing, their footsteps echoing through the corridors like a countdown to judgment day.

But for now, in this stolen moment between heartbeats, I would memorize every line of his face, every breath he took, storing these precious memories against the dark future that awaited us all.